


i can't sleep for the memories haunt me

by SophiexHorayne



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, F/M, M/M, Memories, light angst though, sorry if this goes a little ooc i was projecting lol, violence but brief and not really graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:41:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23085682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophiexHorayne/pseuds/SophiexHorayne
Summary: Most nights he dwells on the memories. Can’t help it. His mind drifts. All the things he’s seen. Done. All the blood he’d shed… they didn’t haunt him like the way two boys skipped class. Like the blackness of a lake, flickering with the flames from a fire. Like being the stars in Theta’s sky.aka the master can't sleep and is going through some memories.
Relationships: The Doctor | Theta Sigma/The Master | Koschei (Doctor Who: Academy Era), Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 44





	i can't sleep for the memories haunt me

The academy is a distant past, but still so clear in the Master’s mind. Perhaps the day they met feels distant, he doesn’t remember it at all, he doesn’t really remember anything before Theta Sigma. But the rest is clear. Crystal. Each memory is like a bright polaroid picture, only it’s more than one snapshot. Every moment plays out, colour growing while he thinks it over. 

He remembers classes with Theta. The shared glances after someone asked something stupid, or answered an easy question wrong. The glances when the professors mentioned pair work. How they gravitated across the room to each other, breaking seating plans in every class. Their knees nudging under the table. He remembers the way Theta would concentrate on notes in class, nose scrunched, tongue poking out the side of their mouth. The way Theta held a pen…

He remembers the first time they skipped class, Theta dragging him into an alleyway between the academy buildings after fleeing the hallways. They were laughing,coming down from an adrenaline high. Theta leant against the wall, head up, looking at the sky- streaks of burning orange and rusted brown. It was the first time he remembers wanting to kiss her- well, of course, Theta went by _he_ back then. It probably wasn’t the first time he’d ever thought about kissing him, that feels as forever ago and distant as the days they first met. But that moment, hiding from their professors, Theta, alive and completely, utterly free. It was the first moment that had made him truly think about it. 

It’s just… Theta was incredible. Smart. Funny. _Powerful._ And _fun_ which is different to _funny_ , neither of which he can find in the Doctor anymore. He knows those things are there- funny, fun- the Doctor just won’t let them out anymore. _God_ he misses Theta. 

Theta was always too good for him. He always thought that. Of course, all the other children found him odd- Theta, the lonely, crying boy. But even still the Master would find it hard to understand that out of all of the kids, all the Gallifreyans… it was only ever him, that Theta showed an interest in. No one else. Not back then.

He remembers the nights. They’d sneak out their rooms at the academy and lie out on the grass by the lake. The memories come with their gentle breezes, the prickle of the red grass beneath them, the exact gallifreyan constellations above them. It had been one of those many nights when Theta first took his hand. At first it was so small, so delicate of a touch that he assumed that it had been just an accident. But Theta curled his fingers around his hand which had been curled into a fist. He remembers the way one of his hearts leapt up and lodged in his throat, and how the other slid down his body like a crashing shooting star. The _sparks_. 

The way Theta would look at him in the dark... like he was the only constellation out that night. It’s always in the back of his mind, that look. Dulling the drumming, once upon a time. Stilling the universe, every time since. 

It was also one of these nights that they first kissed, first said _i love you_ . He can’t help but slip into the memory, once he’s gone through the others. Suddenly he’s there. He remembers the post-exam relief and stress that had been riddling his mind. Theta was tired but content. Koschei was certain he’d fucked the whole thing up. He’d sat up suddenly in the grass, remembering one question and his educated assumption of an answer. That was _wrong_. A thought that chilled his hearts even remembering it now. He stared down at the lake, it was reading his future as nothin but black. It was reflecting the sky but it couldn’t capture the stars properly. He’d rather thought, at the time that Theta was the sky, shining and bright, magical, and he was the lake; a deep, deep black. It was a loud thought. Clear and hurt. Theta sat up too.

“Hey.” He’d said, knocking their heads together. “I can hear you.” Koschei had said nothing. Theta sighed, “If I’m the sky...” He’d started, staring up at it. It was a bright sky, for there were countless stars that night. “If I’m the sky,” He’d said, “Then you’re the stars in it. You make me shine, Koschei.”

It was cheesy. _Dear God_ was it cheesy. But it was also the nicest thing anyone had- or has- ever said to him. And it was _so_ Theta. Teary eyed but trying not to show said tears, he asked, 

“Then who is the lake?”

“Torvic.” Theta replied without missing a beat. It broke them both into giggles, leaning closer together, the sides of their foreheads pressing together. In the grass, Theta found his hand. 

The Master remembers how valued he felt in that moment and feels so deeply embarrassed at believing it. He had probably never been happier, and in retrospect the happiness stabs him a thousand times in both hearts simultaneously. 

“Theta…” He’d wanted to say it out loud- _i love you_ \- but he didn’t need to because Theta had heard him think it. And oh how he’d _smiled_ , Theta. He had dimples back then- does the Doctor have dimples now? He can’t recall, she’s not very smiley around him anymore. Theta had given him a small smile. And then it grew a little bigger. And the Master remembers believing, in that moment, that the suns were shining through the night. 

“Koschei…” 

_I love you too_ echoed into his mind, and he feels it now, just thinking about it. It swam into his head like a whisper on a summer breeze. And now it’s warm pain and frozen medicine in his hearts, all at once. There is no better memory. The way they kissed in that moment, like time was theirs and they’d stopped it. Twisted it. Wrapped themselves in an eternity.

There is no better memory.

Although there is a clearer one. It’s the brightest and highest quality of his metaphorical polaroid photos. So bright that it damaged the camera- him- both of them. It was the fire. 

Torvic went too far. Theta always threatened to kill him, should he dare lay a hand on Koschei again. The Master always thought it was sweet. Torvic thought it was hilarious. Then he thought nothing at all. For such a perfectly clear and pristine memory, it was all a blur. Theta throwing himself onto Torvic, beating him, stabbing him. Even when Torvic’s body was still, long since still, he kept hitting and hitting until Koschei prised him away. 

He helped build the fire to burn the body. Theta wasn’t much use. He’d gone quiet, almost shaky, the adrenaline gone. Koschei remembers turning to take the wood from Theta’s hands and just seeing him staring at Torvic’s body. So frozen- Theta, not the body. It was like he’d come back to life in front of him. He hadn’t. But Theta stared and did not blink. Even when Koschei stood between Theta and the body, his eyes didn’t shift until Koschei’s fingers gently touched his face.

“It’s okay.” He’d said. But it wasn’t okay. They were kids, about to burn a kid. He was a kid. _He was a kid_ . _Theta_ was a kid. He wanted to say something else because there had to be something but there wasn’t. There was just prising the wood from Theta’s hands and dropping them on the pile with the rest. 

He’s never teased the Doctor about that. _The Doctor’s first kill._ Oh the fun he could have had with it. But he can’t. He’s thought of it. He’s tried but the words don’t come out. It’s too much. Too far. For both of them. 

The flames from the fire still dance in his eyes. Every time he closes them. 

**  
  
**

Most nights he dwells on the memories. Can’t help it. His mind drifts. All the things he’s seen. Done. All the blood he’d shed… they didn’t haunt him like the way two boys skipped class. Like the blackness of a lake, flickering with the flames from a fire. Like being the stars in Theta’s sky. 

What a load of bullshit.

He can’t believe he ate up all that pathetic nonsense. About being the stars. Can’t believe the memory still makes a tear slip. _All this time_. He hates it. Not the memory. He hates that he loves the memory. Loves it so much that he can’t let it go. Heartache is all a fun and melodramatic word until you can actually feel it. Doubled. The aching of two hearts. Dull and heavy and always there. Worse at night, but always there. 

Everytime he lets himself replay these memories he gathers so many questions. The Master has two favourites: did Theta really ever love him? Why does he still have to love her?

 _The Doctor_. 

An unhealthy superiority complex. A huge case of in-denial. And still some love there, in the air between them, as the death particle and the button to end everything quivered between them. 

Of course she didn’t press it. Disappointing, but never surprising.

Her running away again- not surprising either. 

That’s his third favourite question: Why must the Doctor always run away from him? Staying away like he’s a disease- like she’ll catch his need for killing, or something.

He supposed the Doctor did stay once. Last time. But it was more that The Master- well he went by Missy, then- had stayed with no choice, and the Doctor popped in occasionally to watch shitty Earth movies and provide an audience for his piano performances. It seemed to have killed them both though. Maybe that’s why she went back to running.

It keeps them alive though, running away. He stays alive to chase her. She stays alive to collect some more human pets. To chase the bad guys. Or whatever. In that respect though, maybe she is also chasing him after all. 

His Tardis engine whirrs as if it’s trying to do something. Maybe comfort. He doesn't care. It’s just a machine. A nicer design than the Doctor’s, though. His is dark inside but he likes the glaring red lighting and the homely interior. Mocks humans at the same time. 

The Doctor’s tardis is also dark, but the night time kind of dark. Like outer space. Does that make the golden beams surrounding the console the stars? Are the golden beams him? 

_God,_ he hates these nights. He could just skip it- the night- and travel to somewhere’s day. But that wouldn’t end the exhaustion. And he has been very busy recently- he deserves a rest. Being O and setting everything up for the Doctor to fix. Paris. The Nazis- he regrets that. He doesn’t regret much of his life but he regrets that. The Cybermasters were a lot of work too. The Cyberium- it still writhes inside of him. It’s a peculiar thing. Almost the feeling of letting someone into your head, letting their thoughts seep in like fresh water.

He tells himself again not to contact her. It’s a waiting game to surprise her with his aliveness when she’s least ready.

But.

The memories are so strong, so loud, tonight. Tonight more than ever. If he tries he’s sure he could reach her mind wherever she is. Whenever too. He just wonders if maybe…

He takes the post exam feelings, and the constellations. The lake. The telepathy and what it was used for. The kiss. He bundles it up, and sends it- _swoosh-_ away.

There’s nothing for a bit. Just the silence of space and the gentle whirr of the Tardis. The sound of his hearts, very far in the background. He worries that she is too far away or simply ignoring it. He hopes it isn’t the latter, not sure what it would do to him. 

Just as the heaviness of sleep edges close, he feels it. A memory being slid into his mind like a note passed under a door.

It’s a memory of the Citadel alleyways. Two boys against a wall. Lost in each other. Lost and unaware of the professor about to pass by. They got detention for that. 

Is that her favourite memory? 

He wonders. He’d certainly sent his favourite. He shouldn’t have. _Huge_ moment of incredible weakness on his part. But she sent one back. A small memory, one of many like that. But she still sent it.

 _And finally_ . Sleep catches up with him. **  
**

**Author's Note:**

> me writing a new fic instead of continuing the on going one I started lol. this might have one or two more parts, I have a vague idea but who knows.  
> Hope you enjoyed this! I did start projecting half way through so like, if it felt out of characterat any point that would be why but hopefully its fine. Hope you enjoyed it xxx


End file.
